The Vessel

The vessel of my love is young and pallid
And knows not the profoundness of the seas.
It gently floats, blown by a mournful breeze,
Beside the sleeping shore. A doleful ballad,

Brought by a lone and faint nostalgic tide,
Fondles the yearnful sails, silken and sweet,
Who long to meet the grand, voluptuous fleet.
The mouldy ancient forest sleeps beside.

One day, a radiant goddess, dressed in foam,
Will rise above the ripples and deplore
Such wretched solitude. Freed by her hands,

The sails will meet the whirlpools and the lone
Vastness of seas, abysms wild and sore,
And cry for sweet nocturnal moonlit sands...